


Tend To The Broken

by AriesOnMars



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe – Slavery, Bathing/Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Hurtcomfortverse/Anodyne AU, M/M, Recovery from trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-01-04 12:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18343778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriesOnMars/pseuds/AriesOnMars
Summary: Pharaoh Seto is given a slave to fulfill a very specific need.





	Tend To The Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KyattoShaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyattoShaku/gifts).



Seto could feel the man before he even entered the room. His fingertips itched and there was a nervous energy that thrummed through him. He was suddenly far too aware that there was something he had to do, something he had to make better, and when he saw the man nearly in a crumpled heap he knew that was what he needed to fix. He'd had that feeling before, it was an old friend, or maybe an old nemesis. It was the urge that made him run out to save a woman he didn't know, beaten and nearly broken and convinced that he could make her better. It was an old desire to tend to his own Pharaoh, to make him better when the whole weight of Egypt threatened to crush him. 

But Seto was Pharaoh now, and he couldn't give in to that desire anymore. To tend to the Pharaoh was an honor, but to do that same to someone beneath his station was... improper.

"Mana," he spoke firmly, using ice to cover the strain in his voice. "What have you brought?"

"I..." the Priestess fumbled with her words but only for a moment. "He was being made to fight for entertainment."

"If it is the will of his master then it is his honor to fight," Seto said firmly.  _Don't look at him, don't even acknowledge him. He's a slave, he is properly, nothing more_. 

"I found no proof that his  _ _master__  came to own him properly," Mana retorted. She was one of the very few willing to argue with him, and it was his own fault. Because of her closeness to their previous Pharaoh Seto always treated her with more respect and allowed her more freedom when working in his name. She stood and she brought the man up with her, as though she knew that by bringing him closer Seto would not be able to look away. Perhaps she did, she was there at time when Seto soothed Atem's aches, and she didn't understand what seeing another's pain did to Seto but she knew how he responded to it. "And if there is no proof of ownership then the only one who can claim him until everything is sorted out is you."

"Or I can turn him out and let him have his freedom." An empty threat although he hoped Mana wouldn't know it. 

"All of Egypt is yours and you won't take a slave?"

"I have enough slaves." It was true, there were enough hands to tend to the needs of the palace and the people within it. Seto didn't have more than he felt he needed, each serf had their place and their duties, and this broken man couldn't serve him.

Seto finally gave in and looked the broken man over. His tunic was in tatters and so was his skin, hands and arms torn and cut with dried and flaking blood matted around the injuries, and his feet were no better. If he had been given sandals to fight in initially he'd lost them early. His only weapon was a wickedly shaped knife attached to a chain bound about his waist. It was splattered with shades of brown, rust and dried blood and mud if Seto had to guess. His tunic was stained, torn, and patched almost at random.

The man looked up and Seto wished he hadn't. Brown eyes under honeyed hair were out of focus, glazed over with pain and a desperate desire for something he couldn't have. It was a primal need, something so deep an innate only the gods could understand it, and in return Seto could feel himself opening to this dirty, unwanted slave. He reached up to touch the man's cheek, and with a pitiful, broken sound those brown eyes closed and he pressed into the Pharaoh's hand like it was the only solace in the world that mattered. 

"It will only be until we know where he belongs," Mana offered. It wasn't necessary, but Seto was glad for the chance to nod and let her take that as her victory instead of letting her see his weakness. 

 

* * *

 

 "What is your name?" Seto asked once he had sent Mana away. He didn't want her to see this part of him, this need to tend and serve. Even if she knew he had taken care of Atem when the young Pharaoh had needed it he wasn't the ruler then. This was something that felt unbefitting of a king, his touches were too careful, his voice too gentle. To his own ears Seto sounded as though the filthy slave was royalty instead. The man looked up at him and instead of answering he did something no commoner should have ever felt it their right to do. 

He wrapped his arms around the Pharaoh and held tight to him. 

Seto didn't hesitate, but part of him wished he had. His held the man close, his hands on the stained, tattered tunic over the man's back and buried in honeyed hair. With the contact he could almost feel his pain, the ache of every bruise and cut, the trembling weakness in his limbs. He was so thin under the rough fabric, he must have been half starved and he doubted water would have been any more plentiful for him.

"Jono..."

The voice was so hushed and unsteady he almost missed the word.

"Jono," he repeated, testing the word. It felt strange, foreign, but he couldn't place from where. "I will take care of you."

 

* * *

 

The first step for Jono's care was the baths. To avoid anyone seeing his weakness Seto sent the servants and slaves away and the room was empty when they entered. The bath was drawn, though, and Seto eased the heavy chain and knife from his waist, and then he slid the dirtied tunic from his body. He was right when he assumed the worst about how much food he was getting. His muscles were still defined as well as they could be, but they were taunt and wiry and his skeleton was too prominent. He was covered in bruises ranging from dark and deep and fresh to yellowy and discolored as they had healed, he had cuts deep and shallow over his body and scars that crossed over his skin. He was fighting for entertainment longer than Seto had assumed, and he touched near a slice over his chest.

"Heart..." Jono murmured. He had an accent, and Seto was sure he only knew a few words.

"How many times did something like this happen?" he asked. The slave opened his mouth and then hesitated, and he finally answered with a word Seto couldn't understand.

"It doesn't matter," the Pharaoh said and he brought his slave to the bath to urge him into the water. "You won't be fighting while I own you."

Jono relaxed as he settled in the water and it was easier to pretend he understood what was said. Seto's hands slid over scarred and injured skin, cupping water to rinse away sweat and dirt and dried blood. Filth washed away from him slowly, the water in the bath slowly growing murky as Seto relaxed into scrubbing over his new slave. He wasn't disgusted by the state of the water as he moved Jono to wash over him, there was only a strange sense of pride in being able to see the effects of his care. When his body was clean Seto put his hand to the back of Jono's neck and eased him down into the water, tilting his head back to wet his hair and scrub his fingers through it. He was just as dirty here, but like with his body the filth was washed away and made the bath a murky mess, leaving his slave in a slightly better state. How soothing it was to let instinct take over, although he suspected instinct was the only thing the other man had right now. In moments like these, where he could just lean back and let himself be tended to, there was a blankness in his eyes that hinted the man was far off.

As Seto helped pull him from the bath and began to dry his skin he hoped it was at least somewhere better. 

Once cleaned he could tend to his injuries, inspecting the cuts and bruises and applying salves and ointments as needed, then taking strips of linen bandages to wrap around the cuts and keep them protected. There wasn't much he could do for the bruises, but the open woulds he could care for and make sure the scars were not nearly so bad as the ones the man already wore. 

“You belong to me now,” Seto said as he carefully dressed the wound over his heart. “Do you know what that means?”

The slave looked at him, the blank look fading, but only for a moment. He looked down, almost like he was hunting for a word again, but then he was leaning closer and he wrapped his arms around Seto once more.

“That’s right,” Seto said softly as he combed his fingers through honey colored hair. But it was a lie, he didn’t know what answer this hug meant to the man in his arms, and he didn’t even know himself what it was he wanted, or even what he would do once Jono was healed.

Jono held tighter and Seto let those worries go for the moment. Right now what mattered was right now, what mattered was how much he was needed by this slave, and the tension it eased to take care of someone so completely.


End file.
